Jan 10, 2015 | Uncategorized
143.
Every work must be cosmology before biography
but the dinky little bits of life
come in too
I tell you you are you and what can
you contest
the lawn needs a shave it’s Sunday
and no bells
the mathematics of the wind mathom
is treasure
rises when the sea heats up long
after dawn
everything tends backwards witchcraft
was no religion
we knew the things before we knew the
knowers
now float rudderless paradise a lake
not a garden
a well ensouled by circumstance
the ash we find after a stranger’s
bonfire on the beach
the old lost word that once meant
god.
144.
Of course still worry about these
things
the wind wants in
wind carries in its lap the seeds of
sleep
mind in sleep renews its contract
with the earth
the dance we call dream, that
forgetting thing
there is no natural end to nature
hence all the busy carry up the hill
higher as if wiser so the sea forgets
us
brass doorknob warm from the sun
going in
how many times does a house get born
the sea’s ceaseless baptism of the
shore
and still we live in sin elves
without a hill.
Jan 9, 2015 | Uncategorized
141.
Mix the grains again for Psyche’s
pleasure
mess is comfort and the law-book torn
restore all the seeds to our original
chaos
don’t wander trying to set things
straight
things are right to begin with,
confusion is organic
this mess reminds me Psyche yields to
pleasure
always here and always now and always
elegant
maiden gypsies tend their stallions’
fetlocks
heel white runs right heel dark can’t
walk
o fall over lightly Kentucky dreamer
round heels
drink to soothe the seething a lie to
cure the truth
so much sun today I can almost see.
142.
A word is as wide as the will and
it’s all for you
the hedger at his trim the blackbird mum
no sound but peopleness menskr
all we bring
to the world is religion it does fine
without
trying to find the way there he found
a white lode
soft as clamshells of no use but
to witches
his satin armband her linen garter bind
the meaty parts of going or of
handling things
throb of artery renews appetite aloft
everything was right there the
chemistry the harpsichord
some Chinese whispers from Ernst Toch
she played me
the virgin queen with all my Tarot
cards.
Jan 8, 2015 | Uncategorized
137.
Open door frog croak man lifting
lumber
longer than I am this matter I uplift
subtended by substance the soul
unveils
the Middle Ages never ended the
pilgrims saunter
all the kings of earth still fail
their pentecosts
only the beauty is missing the
flowing spontaneity of stone
Autun, we have our weathers too our
smooth
flaming sunsets in suburban prose
will the sun on the sea be enough for
me
sit on the ground and let the world
tell
all your talk is reference book and
parliament
what your body knows only body can
pronounce.
Jan 7, 2015 | Uncategorized
135.
No waiting it went and was now
all those old words that meant me stopped
as if the chalice never touched my
lips or never left them
the weather is inside us too
knowing litters small birds along the
sky
you are the architect of the obvious
things bow down at your feet you know
me cold
morning was never meant for this to
be obedient at last
hide your confession deep in your tract
on ethics
explore the dream life of Immanuel
Kant
exalt the triviality of poetry
where three roads meet the god is
always present.
136.
Slow down a stoker in a locomotive
old
Zola by Renoir Kafka’s steamship balancing
nowheres
can’t help but make luminous mistakes
bathroom down the hall barefoot dawn
a room is just a footnote to its
window
sun gleams on steel a pen seems muse
enough
over the harbor slipping her sail so
quiet beauty come
Azure as ever he teased the war over at last L.Z.
now we can go home home is always
somewhere else
I watched my father shovel coal into
the furnace
hand on the throttle of the door I
made the house go
talked about coke but it was
anthracite and Ellington.
Jan 6, 2015 | Uncategorized
133.
Heal like an open window an opus
number a lost quartet
the sheen of shadow as if a word once
spoken
the leaf speaks louder than the tree
the thing you need to know you never
trust
Nietzsche in the rose garden Bolzano
smell of asphalt
suicide because birds can walk but
men can’t fly
beautiful vow I vaunt that vaults to
heaven
shield me from the hailstorm broken
scraps of human will
because the will can live without its
man
bring me unconsenting to my deed
a vow is medicine finally a use for
pain
hawthorn berries to help my love’s
heart.
134.
We’re still in opera that city where
the music counts
intervals between the notes men do
things to each other
a ring of rising thirds a single leap
a ninth
girls turn into goddesses gods sweat
to keep up with them
a handful of sunlight a head full of
wheat
sleepy grain sleepy sunshine morning
comes in vain
in sleep the words are hard to read
even a woman on the sofa what does
she mean by sitting there
or the one on the floor reading the
paper she is the news
touch the over-energy, energumen
each one has
flows into other making both strong
it is the breath of the daemon who
lives in our lives.
Jan 5, 2015 | Uncategorized
131.
Feelings are not to be reported
feelings are to be felt
so it’s always winter again the
mosaic of discourse starts up
where all the pieces fall asunder
there is no answer
water table what the land will hold
turned away from the messaging sun
the drenched moon
la Dranse flows north from glaciers
fed
rain ratcheted can’t tell who really
means
all poems say the same thing don’t
you know that yet?
no time to mention a melon split open
in the sun
what goes on in that dim town across
the dream
roses on her thighs are blessed with
thorns
I want to know who rings that bell
and why.
132.
When is a wound like a wonder
miracle macula the kindly leper
healed
by light alone inserted in the
vascular
fleshlight cures all so little left
fish swimming at the arteries salmon
men by contradiction
reverse time’s mindless flow
the opera is always just beginning
apotheosis of Ariadne creates heaven
to be in
a place peopled only by who had been
humans
now lift their syntax through the
stars
radio blaring on the empty fishing boat
what music do they hear who empty out
the sea?
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